Lifeline
by sincerelymendacious
Summary: Raz tells Dogen about his future. Or maybe not.


"Now this," Raz said, tapping the space between Dogen's thumb and forefinger, "is interesting."

Dogen wasn't quite sure what to make of that statement. Raz had spent the last minute or so examining his open palm without saying much of anything, merely staring down thoughtfully as he considered the lines on Dogen's hand. Truth be told, Dogen didn't know the first thing about palm reading, and he couldn't tell if Raz had meant 'interesting' in a good or a bad way.

They were out on the terrace of a fancy hotel that Dogen could not for the life of him remember the name of. A party- no a gala, Raz said that they called these things 'galas' ("that's what they call a party that's no fun and the guests all hate each other,") was underway behind the ornate doors leading out to the terrace, the combined noise of the string quartet and the guest's chatter muted by the dark wood and thick glass. The night was starless and humid, the heat made worse by the stuffy suit that HQ had made him wear. The garden below was mostly obscured by darkness, and what little that was illuminated looked dull and confusing to Dogen's eyes ("Lili thinks this kind of landscaping is stupid and fake," Raz had said after casting a quick glance at the scenery).

In spite of all that, being out here was still preferable to the being in the ballroom. It was Dogen's first time at a function like this (and Raz's "one-goddamn-millionth") and he was finding the whole thing to be way Too Much. There had been so many people crowding around him, all of them talking at once, their clothing and jewelry so expensive and flashy that it almost hurt to look at them. Worse than that had been the smell, the heavy scent of too many perfumes and colognes mixing together. The constantly shifting stimuli had been too much for his brain to process, and he'd been completely unable to concentrate on any of the conversations going on at his table. Raz inviting him outside had been a blessing ( _If I have to hear another word about this guy's yacht I'm gonna stab myself in the ear with a fork. Let's get out of here)._

"You've got a line here," Raz said, ghosting his finger diagonally downwards from the edge of Dogen's palm, "between your headline and your lifeline." He put his free hand under Dogen's and gently brought it up. "See it?"

Dogen squinted, having no idea what Raz was talking about. He assumed that the two big lines curving across his palm were his headline and lifeline, but there were so many small lines branching off of them that he didn't know which specific one Raz was referring to. "I guess I do," he answered after a few seconds of searching.

"This one," Raz said, sliding his finger along a short, faint line between the two big ones. His touch was light, barely perceivable, yet it sent an odd tingle up Dogen's arm. "It means you have danger in your near future."

Dogen's eyebrows shot up in alarm. "Danger?" he asked. This news was concerning. "What kind of danger?"

"Hmm. Not sure," Raz replied, "but you'll be dragged into it by somebody you know." He glanced up, making eye-contact with Dogen and quirking an eyebrow.

"You mean-" Dogen cut himself off and looked back towards the doors. Satisfied that nobody was eavesdropping on them, he turned back and lowered his voice to a whisper. "You mean like a spy?" Raz had told him that there were plenty of spies among the guests at the gala they were attending ("they're just as happy to be here as we are").

For a brief second the corners of Raz's mouth shot up before settling back into a flat line. Dogen felt like he was missing something. Everything that Raz had just told him sounded pretty dire, so why had he just smiled? "Maybe," Raz said, the hint of humor in his voice baffling Dogen further. "Whoever they are," he continued, carefully turning Dogen's hand over, "they're definitely going to get you into trouble." He ran his finger along the bumps of Dogen's knuckles. Why, Dogen didn't know- was knuckle-reading a thing too?

"What should we do, Raz?"

"Do about what?"

"The trouble I'm going to get into."

The smile slid back onto Raz's face, this time staying put. His eyes were now glinting mischievously, and once again Dogen felt like there was something going over his head. "What, don't you want to get into trouble?"

Dogen immediately shook his head. In the past, getting into trouble usually involved a lot of screaming, crying, and occasionally bloodshed.

Raz's finger paused in its movements. The smile remained on his face, but it sobered a little as he fell silent, mulling his next words over. Dogen had no idea what he was thinking, but he knew better than to try to read his mind- his telepathy wasn't all that great, and Raz's mental shields were notorious for being near impenetrable.

A moment passed, and then Raz released Dogen's hand before turning back towards the terrace railing. His glass of wine, full and blood-red, was resting on it. "Don't worry about it," he said as he picked the glass up by the stem. "Palm reading isn't actually a thing. I was just messing with you." He held the glass up in front of his face and contemplated its contents. "It's all bullshit." He tossed the wine out with a flick of his wrist, the dark liquid spilling down onto the bushes below.

* * *

Shout out to my buddy garbagemonster, who's awesome fic Estuary inspired this one!


End file.
